


cats catch mice, for a reasonable price

by Anonymous



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboys & Catgirls, Escort Service, Happy Ending, Hunting kink, Hybrids, M/M, Predator/Prey, Prostitution, Sex Work, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, cat kihyun, mouse changkyun, yeah it's. yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24320473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: kihyun is going to offer his shoulder (and ass) to all the shame-faced, evolutionarily regressive kinksters that can’t get this particular fix anywhere else. personally, he really could not give a fuck about the ethics. he makes his money off of horny gay men looking to fuck a soft, meowing twink with cat ears. but, the question right now is what the guy that sent this message wants.
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 166
Collections: Anonymous





	cats catch mice, for a reasonable price

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer i'm not a sex worker and did my best to, if not completely accurately, at least respectfully portray the profession. if anything's really egregious please let me know in the comments.

kihyun is a perfectly respectable budget analyst for SPESKA, a company that sells dishwashing liquid, among other things. he works in a tall, nondescript office building on the east side, sandwiched between a slightly shorter but still tall office building, and a law firm apparently belonging to a “kim & brower.” they specialize in workplace injury, according to their commercials, and kihyun thinks of the gilded sign every time he’s standing in front of the small sink in the break room at work, thinking of shoving his left hand into the garbage disposal.

kihyun does not give himself a reason to call kim or brower today, though, instead putting his fingers under the water and smoothing down the fur over his ears, until it’s silky and his break is over.

his company is one of those where it’s not required to keep your tail covered, which he finds immodest, so his own tail rests very modestly indeed inside his left pant leg, sort of stiff after a long day, but relatively comfortable. wonho, of course, does no such thing, the fluffy white thing on display for anyone lucky enough to have him in their peripheral vision to see. kihyun sits at his desk and glares where wonho is flirting with hyunwoo, who works on the floor above in marketing, white tail curling promiscuously at the tip. hyunwoo smiles, gently, too polite to make a move, elbow resting on the water cooler because he’s five foot eleven. wonho’s tail swishes and resumes its cute curl by his right shoulder. kihyun thinks, _whore,_ and reopens his excel spreadsheet.

when kihyun gets home, he checks his email, compulsively, to make sure none of his reports or projects have been sent back with edits. he pours himself a glass of water while he does, from the brita he finally splurged on last month. he can’t tell if its making a difference.

kihyun lives in a tall, nondescript apartment building that is so similar to his office it makes him nauseous if he thinks about it too much. he’s cursorily reading something one of the accounting interns sent him about expense reports when his phone buzzes in his hand.

**meow! you have a new message!**

kihyun purses his lips, sighs, taps the notification. the _CatConneko_ logo blooms under his thumb, bright purple. he takes a sip of water.

_still on tonight?_ 😘 

kihyun sets down his glass and slides into one of the chairs at his tiny kitchen table.

 _of course,_ he types back, trying to remember if he washed his good underwear.

_wouldn’t miss it <3_

from there, he switches over to uber eats and orders a salad and a lemonade, nothing fragrant, nothing carbonated. when he first started, he’d wait until after to eat, but by then he’d be starving and the only thing still open would be fast food, and then he’d be bloated the next day, which was inconvenient if he was booked again.

kihyun is much better at this now, and it shows in the ease with which he prepares, methodical in the shower, combing his hair, smoothing his fur with scented oil rather than tap water from work. he did, in fact, wash his good underwear, and he thanks his own diligent laundry schedule as he pulls it on. he decides to get the hard part over with, and carefully presses the blue colored contacts into his eyes, making him look every bit the siamese his profile says he is.

(“an extra hundred,” he said, the first time he’d had the confidence to.

“for what,” the man asked, some corporate bore, average in every way and definitely with an extra hundred at hand.

“i’m purebred,” kihyun lied, laying his ears flatter so the dark fur caught the light.

“siamese.”

“fine, whatever.” he squinted.

“i didn’t notice your eyes were blue.” kihyun’s heart picked up, but it’s impossible to tell in this light.

“they’re lapis,” he said steadily.

“a little darker than others.” he took the bills with a smile.)

from there, black jeans will do, a shirt that’s soft and cheap and most importantly, not opaque, and the collar goes on last. it’s a dumb little pleather thing; the bell is silver and not terribly annoying or loud, but it makes him feel more like a reindeer than anything. he eats his salad when it comes, checks his email again, checks the app and deletes all the messages asking for pictures of his tail, and smears lip balm over his mouth in the taxi over.

sehun oh is a strange man. severe at first glance, and then you keep looking and notice his face exists in this weird little triangle on his head, and his eyebrows are too close together, and his body is sort of one long pole that you might get your tongue stuck on in winter. he’s handsome, though, always well put together, and his mouth is small and a shade of pink that reminds kihyun of fruit. kihyun likes him. he’s _rich,_ also, so kihyun would pretend he liked him anyway. 

“kihyun,” he says, when the elevator arrives in his penthouse. kihyun puts his peacoat up in the closet, takes off his shoes. sehun is waiting for him on the couch, long as kihyun remembers, in a black turtleneck and expensive looking pants. he opens an arm and kihyun pads over, bell tinkling lightly. he puts his hand in sehun’s and smiles demurely. sehun likes him to be refined, which suits kihyun’s tastes as well, so they have very few problems. sehun kisses kihyun’s knuckles, and kihyun looks at sehun’s rolex. 

“thank you for coming,” sehun says, with his little strawberry mouth, and kihyun nods politely.

there’s champagne, which kihyun has one sip of, and chocolate, which kihyun has two bites of, to make his mouth taste sweet. sehun fucks him from behind, and it’s not unpleasant, though kihyun does hate when his knees get irritated. he arches his back and shakes his head so his little bell rings, and purrs low in his chest. sehun’s going to come soon, so kihyun closes his eyes and thinks of pleasant things like the new coat he wants from burberry, and sapphires and getting his dick sucked, and comes when sehun tells him to.

sehun likes company, and kihyun likes to count his money, so that is how they spend a lazy half-hour afterwards. sehun recounts a trip to lyon, where he had some sort of casual orgy and bought a restaurant, and kihyun half-listens and looks at the zeroes on the bills in his hands.

^^

minhyuk is a mutt, a scorpio, and a bitch, though kihyun supposes those last two things might be interchangeable. regardless, they get along well because of these commonalities.

“how goes the sex kitten grind?” minhyuk asks, sun turning his hair and ears burnished bronze.

kihyun sighs, “sehun had an orgy in france and i’m only going to see the eiffel tower in pictures unless i find another regular.”

“that’s not true. you’re only going to see the eiffel tower in pictures because they’ll kick you out of france for trying to be more pretentious than them.”

kihyun glares. minhyuk takes a sip of his latte.

“how hard can it be? who doesn’t want a tiny tabby mix hissing at them viciously? oh, sorry, _siamese,”_ minhyuk says with a wink. kihyun leans his head on the back of the stupid wicker chair he’s sitting in, and stares at fabric of the shade umbrella above. he hates this cafe.

“what i need,” he says slowly, “is a marketing strategy.” he thinks of meek shownu, working upstairs, and wonho, smiling brightly.

“i need to be special.” he lifts his head and minhyuk is looking at him skeptically.

“isn’t the purebred thing already kind of pushing it? what are you gonna do, claim direct descendance from a saber-tooth?”

kihyun rolls his eyes.

“i don’t need to _actually_ be special, i just need to be special to one person with very specific tastes.”

^^

**meow! you have a new message!**

kihyun squints at his phone screen. it’s one a.m. he just laid down, carefully, because jinhyuk has a stupid big dick. he opens the app.

_hi, i saw that you do prey kink?_

kihyun grins, aches and pains momentarily forgotten. _this_ is how he’s going to be special. predator-prey and hunting kinks are taboo lately with hybrid rights and social justice activists writing thinkpiece article after twitter thread to state and restate exactly how offensive it is to “assume hybrids all secretly want to succumb to their baser instincts. we are evolved, we are people, we are a minority. and for any hybrids out there engaging in these fetishizations of our existences: shame on you.”

kihyun is going to offer his shoulder (and ass) to all the shame-faced, evolutionarily regressive kinksters that can’t get this particular fix anywhere else. personally, he really could not give a fuck about the ethics. he makes his money off of horny gay men looking to fuck a soft, meowing twink with cat ears. but, the question right now is what the guy that sent this message wants. 

_hi, yup! what are you looking for?_

typing, more typing, kihyun runs his tongue over his teeth.

 _um… ideally just some hunting-talk. i don’t usually see cats doing it._

kihyun clicks to this guy’s profile; no picture, great, but his username is _kyunim,_ he’s apparently twenty-three, middling height (almost exactly kihyun’s own), and then, what kihyun’s really looking for — _rodentia apodemus._

field fucking mouse. he taps back to the conversation.

_well i promise i’m good at it, baby. have you seen my rates?_

typing, typing, kihyun hopes he’s not this slow in person.

_yeah, money won’t be an issue. i’d be willing to pay any, like, extra fees, since it’s a specialty thing._

kihyun feels his own face light up; bingo, jackpot, checkmate, lottery. that’s blackjack, or whatever you say when you win blackjack, and every other heterosexual fist-pumping phrase in the world. _kyunim_ might as well have messaged him his bank details.

_sounds great, babe! wanna set something up?_

^^

 _kyunim_ ’s real name is, in fact, changkyun im. kihyun learned this the same way he learned that changkyun im is loaded (aside from assumptions): through a direct deposit into kihyun’s bank account of five hundred dollars.

kihyun’s flat rate is a hundred an hour; up from seventy since he began catfishing (literally, he supposes) about his breed. changkyun arranged for one hour of his time. being a glorified accountant for seven hours a day, kihyun is quite good with numbers. being good with numbers, he knows that this doesn’t add up. 

torn between not wanting to look a gift-horse in the mouth and feeling inexplicably guilty, he consults minhyuk.

_maybe it’s a test?_

kihyun frowns.

_a test? what do you mean?_

_yeah like, he’s seeing if you’d be honest about smth like that. to judge ur character?_

kihyun narrows his eyes.

_paranoid rich bastard._

still, he does message changkyun over _CatConneko_ about the seeming mistake on saturday.

_what? no, it should be right. five hundred, right?_

kihyun blinks.

_yes, but my rate is only a hundred per hour, plus kinks._

_right! i know pred/prey is super rare for kink, so i wanted to pay you that value._

kihyun leans back in his seat, huffs an incredulous breath, and messages back, _so nice of you, babe <3_

^^

much as kihyun physically typed the words _predator/prey kink friendly_ into his own bio on the app, he has yet to do any research on it whatsoever. he just, kind of thought it might be more than two days until someone actually messaged him about it, but kihyun is not about mess up this opportunity because he was unprepared. that’s like, the opposite of his whole personality.

so, after he closes the conversation with changkyun, he goes over to the desk crammed into his room, and carefully navigates to _hybridfever.com,_ the go-to for hybrid porn. of course, he’s bombarded immediately with maine coon and russian blue girls jerking off outrageously huge cocks with their tails, but he quickly goes to the sidebar that has popular searches, and predator/prey is fourth down the list. 

the hardcore-est of hardcore pops up first; elaborate hunting role-plays, bondage scenarios, mastiffs hunting little white hares, sight dogs and rodents galore. there’s vore, also, which he supposes he should have expected, but he suspects it will never become less perplexing to view a large dog hybrid trying to force the hand of an orange tabby down his throat. so.

kihyun sighs; he needs to narrow his search to something at least vaguely resembling what he assumes will be happening between changkyun and himself. changkyun had specified through the app that kihyun would very much be the one doing the hunting, as assumed, and kihyun had had brief visions of if it had been the other way around and he’d have to pretend to find a five-eight field mouse intimidating.

finally, he gets to a thumbnail of a halloween-ish black cat girl across from a chinchilla with ridiculous tits, and he clicks. there’s a brief intro where the cat talks to herself out loud (?) about how she wishes she could just get a little scurrying thing under her and go _feral_ (kihyun rolls his eyes), at which point the chinchilla enters. there’s some talk, the chinchilla hides, the cat finds her, kihyun yawns, and then there’s a lot of crawling all over each other, as well as some strange and fantastical “scent marking.”

kihyun closes the video, feeling sufficiently prepped, and gets ready for bed. as he brushes his teeth, he does a little math in his head, and if all he has to do to make five hundred an hour is taunt a well-to-do little mouse, he’ll be sunning in barcelona by year’s end.

in the interim between now and changkyun’s booking, kihyun has five days of accounting and one night of escorting to get through, and the funny thing is he’ll probably make about the same amount for those. 

on wednesday, kihyun stares at the garbage disposal in the break room until two interns wander in, disturbing his peace. 

“...think i saw wonho _limping_ on the way in. how big do you think it is?” one says, head bent in faux secrecy.

“i mean, the man is a mountain. you’d have to _pay_ me to even attempt a pipe like that.”

ah, the new office couple. hyunwoo must’ve finally leaned away from the water cooler and put his hands somewhere more productive. kihyun swallows the last of his coffee, grimacing at the taste, and prepares to take his leave.

“do you think he does?” the first one muses contemplatively.

“does what?”

“you know, get paid? i hear a lot of cats do that kind of thing. i could never. with a stranger? ugh.”

the second one hums and says, “i mean, he’s certainly not shy. i wouldn’t be surprised. why, do you think i should put up an offer later? how much do you think he goes for, a tenner?”

snickering. kihyun’s shoulders are tight. he puts down his coffee, overloud, and turns.

the interns are from accounting; kihyun spent a good hour yesterday fixing sam and olivia's expense reports, perfect.

“that would still be more than you two are getting from SPESKA, combined. something about zero-plus-zero-equals-zero. also, that would mean _he_ has two jobs, where as you have…” he tilts his head. “four tenths of one, would you say?”

they blink, glance at each other nervously. they’re very pale. kihyun puts his mug in the sink and moves towards the door.

“i want the weekly department budgets done by four o’clock. on my desk, yes?”

the less attractive one, same, says, “um, it’s wednesday ki- um, mr. yoo.”

kihyun, without turning, says, “three tenths.”

^^

hwitaek lee is kihyun’s age exactly, give or take two months. he, like kihyun, works in an office; this kihyun has surmised from the various suits in his closet, the scheduling he favors, and the general demeanor. thoroughly downtrodden, he must’ve taken a nine-to-five right out of college and been there ever since.

kihyun has — not a soft spot, per se, just… perhaps he feels they’re kindred spirits. looking for escape from the daily doldrums of corporate life.

hwitaek, unlike most of kihyun’s clientele, is not rich. kihyun notices the seams and patches on his suits (of which there are only three), the watch on his wrist with the worn leather band, the scuffed shoes. kihyun notices because up until very recently, this is a mirror image of how his own life looked.

after deciding that he simply _can’t_ live like that, that he deserves more, and fast, not ten years down the line when he’s finally clawed his way up the ladder at fucking SPESKA, he’d done his research on camming, stripping, and all other modes of selling his body, which is in his opinion his most valuable commodity. _CatConneko_ is annoying, embarrassing, and honestly downright disgraceful, but it works.

hwitaek is sadly lacking in the necessary skills this line of work requires, so kihyun puts on his collar and goes over to the cramped apartment about once every other month. he can tell hwitaek saves his meager paychecks for this, specifically, because the amount is always the same, and if kihyun hadn’t hiked up his price for him once he became a siamese, it’s no one’s business. besides, he’d been with hwi before he started wearing the contacts, so it wouldn’t have worked, anyway.

hwitaek opens the door, already smiling. he’s not bad when he smiles. kihyun kisses both his cheeks, because something about hwi makes him feel like he should be french and cute, but it’s not important.

there’s very little preamble with hwitaek, because hwitaek does not have the funds available for champagne or belgian chocolate or other pre-sex hors d’oeuvres, so they exchange pleasantries, chat about current events, and then hwi pulls kihyun down onto the couch.

he likes to kiss. it’s not that kihyun has a rule about it or anything but — he tries not to kiss. it’s just strange and intimate and kihyun sometimes worries about the sharpness of his teeth. but hwi likes it, and his lips are soft enough, so kihyun allows it. 

it’s all teenage dream and chobits with hwi. he likes kihyun on his lap, hands on his waist, petting the base of his tail. sloppy makeouts on the couch and pillow talk after. kihyun (secretly, in his mind) calls it the boyfriend package. he and hwitaek are more similar than different, and in another life perhaps, they’d be together. but kihyun does not pine, nor long, nor yearn; hwi’s not _that_ good at kissing. 

after fifteen minutes they move to the bed, and kihyun senses hwi would like to carry him but is not strong enough. the sheets smell like laundry detergent, and kihyun smiles. 

hwi likes to fuck him on his back, or likes kihyun to ride him, if he’s lazy. kihyun complies, melting into the softness he knows is appealing as hwi gets on top, pulling kihyun’s jeans off. hwitaek touches kihyun like he’s delicate, like he’s been fantasizing about this moment for the last two months, like he’s so lucky to touch this erotic creature of his imaginings. kihyun likes it. kihyun likes that hwi saves up for him, that hwi changed the sheets before he arrived, he likes hwi’s hand, gently possessive on his flank. it makes him feel special.

after, kihyun lays around in hwitaek’s button down, nestled under his arm. now is when hwi talks about his work, or his family, or his landlord, but he hasn’t said anything yet and it’s been four entire minutes since he came. kihyun looks at the clock. he has to be here for eleven more minutes.

hwi says, suddenly, “there’s this girl.”

kihyun looks away from the clock, at hwitaek’s ribs under his cheek.

“oh?”

there’s nothing else to say, so kihyun reaches with his arm and pulls hwi’s torso a little bit closer.

“yeah. yeah,” hwi says, absently putting his fingers between kihyun’s ears, but doing nothing with them. the stagnant pressure is annoying. kihyun feels his ear twitch, but politely starts up a soft purr. eight minutes left.

“she’s great.”

kihyun wonders what kinds of girls hwi likes. if this one is a cat, like him. if she purrs when hwitaek annoys her. if she’s content to sit on his lap and kiss.

“she… has a boyfriend.” stilted, awkward, he’s in pre-emptive mourning for an impossible relationship. kihyun relaxes, moves his arm.

“he’s kind of… weird.” kihyun goes back to trying to calculate what the tax will be on that burberry coat in his head.

“they’re really — i don’t know.”

kihyun hums sympathetically. time’s up.

he leans up and kisses hwi’s cheek, then takes his time unbuttoning the borrowed shirt, like he’s sad to part with it. then, carefully, he redresses, making sure his bell tinkles lightly here and there, and he basks in the familiar feeling of hwi’s eyes on his back, transfixed. he arches his back, stretching, turns with a little pout, and says, “i wish i could stay.”

hwitaek says, foreseeably, “stay.”

“i’m afraid i have to scamper back across town, but i can’t wait until next time,” kihyun says unhurriedly, leaning across the bed one last time to let hwi see the line of his body. he gets close enough to kiss, then smiles languidly and pulls away. hwitaek leans after him helplessly, magnet to metal. 

as he winds his scarf back around his neck both to stave off the winter chill and hide his collar, kihyun thinks that that girl, whoever she is, probably can’t do it like _this._

^^ 

first meetings are important. everything about it will determine if the customer calls back or not. kihyun usually decides if he even wants them to call back within the first five minutes. if he doesn’t, well, it’s not like he’s inexperienced at being mildly unpleasant, an acquired taste just a touch too bitter — there’s a reason he doesn’t have friends at the office. but, if he decides he does, then the entire appointment is spent in a sort of dance — if he shows them everything he’s got, gives them everything they asked for, they might decide they’ve gotten whatever urge out of their system, scratched a particular itch with kihyun’s claws, and move on. of course, tip the scales too far in the other direction, withhold too much, and he comes across cold, bitchy, frigid like the stereotype. he thinks that’s why people like him to be so docile usually; subverting that convention of a standoffish feline and being nice and rolling over, declawed, for the highest bidder.

but, going into this particular appointment, kihyun isn’t anticipating having to sugarcoat himself. it’s somewhat freeing, though the ritual of getting ready firmly puts him in the working mindset.

kihyun blinks his contacts into place, and picks up his collar from its place in the drawer adjacent to the sink. he does it automatically, but then he pauses, bell cool in his palm. he glances at himself in the mirror. he doesn’t know if a collared cat is what changkyun wants. after another moment of hesitation, he puts it on, hooking the clasp with practiced hands. better safe than sorry.

changkyun lives in a building with a doorman. there’s a private elevator that requires a key. kihyun adjusts his scarf. his clothes are cheap — kihyun is not yet wealthy enough to risk anything more expensive than department store off-brands being torn or come-splattered. still, his ears are shiny, well taken care of. his tail is still tucked into his pant leg. he has a jacket on to cover the low cut of the shirt. he doesn’t look like a prostitute. he doesn’t look like a whore. he has a lip tint on, but it’s cold; it could be chapstick. he looks at himself in the thin stretch of mirror on the wall of the elevator and thinks, _i don’t look like a whore._

the doorman had said, “oh yes, mr. im has been expecting you!”

kihyun had looked at him sharply, killing the hiss behind his teeth before it built. he smiled politely and asked, guileless, “has he?” 

the elevator dings softly. kihyun runs his thumb over the side of his index finger. sweaty. he opens his palm.

the apartment is — well, not an apartment. it’s more like a hotel; an open floor plan with rooms leading into other rooms. some interior designer hired long ago had chosen blue, green, and white theme colors. it’s half-dreary, half-sophisticated; kihyun’s not too bothered. the lamp that’s modeled after climbing roses, though, kihyun wants to throw out the window. it’s very dim; kihyun’s eyes adjust automatically.

there’s a shuffling from another room, footsteps over plush rugs. kihyun swallows, draws his elbows closer to himself.

changkyun appears, then, and kihyun thinks, _field fucking mouse._

true to his self-description, they are about the same height. kihyun thinks he might have a centimeter extra. he has tousled hair the color of cedar, large round ears to match. thick-lensed glasses make his eyes appear small and beady, and kihyun remembers how rodents are weak-eyed, sleepless little creatures, susceptible to bright lights and loud noises. it’s been a while since minhyuk dated that irritating rabbit; kihyun’s mildly out of practice with the rodentia order. he reacquaints himself, mentally adjusting. changkyun is just standing there, wide-eyed.

kihyun smiles in his slow way, and pushes it a little wider than he knows is pretty. he reminds himself there are new rules.

“hello,” he says, straightening his posture, stepping carefully out from behind the meek, mild kitten he usually presents on jobs.

changkyun jumps slightly, fingers tangling, shifting his weight between feet. what a pitiable, nervous man.

“hello,” he says, and kihyun is momentarily thrown off by the low, viscous timbre. he blinks, adjusts.

“changkyun, right?” he asks needlessly. this seems to jolt changkyun into action. he gestures clumsily, towards the coatrack.

“yes, yes that’s right. please, your coat and scarf. and your shoes are fine by the door.”

kihyun takes his time as he usually does, as this is undeniably an opportunity for a preview undressing. when he unwinds his scarf, however, changkyun’s eyes go wide again and he says, “oh.”

kihyun pauses, raises an eyebrow.

“oh?”

changkyun goes pinky, and his nose twitches. his nose is quite large.

“if you — you might,” he tries, bites his lip.

“your collar. i’ll hear it when you — later.”

kihyun blinks.

“oh, of course, silly me!” he shakes his head, reaches behind himself to undo the clasp. changkyun watches.

ok, so he wants the authentic hunting experience. hide-and-seek, with more taunting and sex. doable. kihyun adjusts. he drops his collar into his coat pocket and hangs it up, along with his scarf. changkyun’s eyes dart between his chest and his neck and his face. his nose twitches.

“before we begin, would you like a safeword?” kihyun asks.

changkyun smiles smally. if sehun’s mouth is a strawberry, changkyun’s mouth is a plum. 

“that’s alright,” he says in his strange voice. kihyun adjusts.

“okay,” he says easily. 

changkyun briefly explains what he’d like to happen, things he wouldn’t like to happen, flushing cherry whenever he has to say “hunt.” then, he asks kihyun to close his eyes and scurries off to hide in one of the extravagant rooms.

kihyun blinks his eyes open after a moment, having to adjust to the dimness again. he clears his throat. he feels a little unsteady, like taking a test after skimming the book.

remembering the cat in the video talking to herself, kihyun says out loud, “oh i’m _famished,_ if only there were a tasty mouse for me to eat,” and promptly decides not to speak again until he finds changkyun.

he hasn’t made it difficult, leaving disheveled rugs and a crooked lampshade in his supposed scramble. kihyun follows the trail lazily, into a spotless kitchen and a gilded sitting room. then, he hears a noise.

it’s a couple rooms away, like faint scratching on plaster. kihyun realizes he’s turned completely towards the sound, ears swiveled forwards, and he knows his pupils must be dumb looking behind his contacts. he’s crouched, muscles coiled.

he straightens, regaining the confident posture he’d had when he entered, and shakes it off. it’s just the situation, he thinks, a placebo of sorts triggering his reflexes. still, he walks slowly, quietly, into the next room. this one has a bed, though kihyun’s sure it’s a guest room and not the master.

again, sound. kihyun’s ears move of their own accord. just the slightest tap. he gives up on his posture and allows himself to crouch, moving so his feet are soundless on the floor. he comes to a hall, and he moves even slower, since the floor is bare hardwood here. he turns his head; a linen closet, there, at the end of the hall. a ridiculous instinct tells him to wait, hidden, until changkyun comes out, which he ignores.

he thinks of changkyun, meek mouse, blinking behind his glasses, so nervous, and kihyun’s entire body tenses. he gets lower to the floor as he moves toward the closet, vaguely aware of his tail swishing behind him. there’s the desire to have all his limbs beneath him, to find the most powerful launching point for his muscles. fine, changkyun wants to be hunted? kihyun will comply.

he lets himself drop even lower, fingertips brushing the floor, balancing him. the door to the closet is slightly ajar. he feels compulsions he hasn’t felt since childhood and puberty; to use his nails, which grow to a sharp point if he doesn’t file them, to use his teeth, stronger than a human’s. he wants — he wants to pounce. it’s embarrassing; all the years of refining himself, exerting iron control over any urges, being taught to model human behavior in school — gone, fallen away in the face of a kinky fucking mouse.

he moves closer, close enough he’s certain changkyun can smell him, hear him, from inside. momentarily remembering himself, he says, “little mouse, you are so bad at hiding,” letting a purr creep into his voice, salacious, a warning. there’s a muffled noise from inside, like a whimper. kihyun opens the door.

changkyun is huddled in the corner, hands covering his face, shivering in fear, but kihyun does not take the time to ask if he’s actually okay, if this is okay, because his brain is pulling every fire alarm, screaming at him to put this mouse _under_ him, fast, quickly, before it escapes! his muscles bunch, and he jumps — not quite a pounce, but similar, the arc of his body — but changkyun is shockingly faster, he scurries past and down the hall, careening into the next room, the sitting room.

kihyun follows, heartbeat in his head; the hall is long but kihyun is fast, focused. he rounds the corner and changkyun’s out of sight, but kihyun _knows_ he’s just behind the sofa; it’s his rodent-quick breathing, it’s the outlines of footsteps on the carpet, it’s everything, he never stood a fucking chance. the room reeks of mouse and wood and tension. kihyun resumes moving stealthily, until he’s just next to the edge of the sofa. he waits. he listens. 

and this time he actually _does_ pounce, and collides with a warm, soft body; changkyun’s under him. 

kihyun grins, knows he must look scary — almost pulls back before he remembers, blissfully: changkyun _wants_ this. changkyun is red like his blood is wine, burgundy, and he’s squeaking, he’s terrified, his ears are down, he’s curling into himself, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his sweater.

“you look _delicious,”_ kihyun purrs, getting ahold of one of changkyun’s wrists and pressing it down beside him. changkyun squeaks; it’s such a high, helpless sound. kihyun’s heart beats fast.

“you wanted me to find you, didn’t you, little mouse? so eager to be my dinner?” changkyun squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head violently. kihyun feels himself frown; is he being serious? why didn’t this idiot want a safeword, goddamn it.

as he opens his mouth to ask, changkyun moves the hand kihyun is holding with surprising strength, switches their grips, and presses kihyun’s palm unambiguously between his legs. he’s hard. he’s so hard. kihyun blinks, feeling stirrings of arousal in his own body at the sheer fact of it.

“a-ahh, i see, the mouse is a _pervert,”_ he breathes, after recovering. he moves his palm down harshly, rubbing changkyun through his pants, and he buries his face in the junction of changkyun’s neck and shoulder.

“i think horny mice taste the best, don’t you?”

changkun, shame-faced, actually has the gall to fucking nod. kihyun smiles against his hot skin, feels the quick breaths under him, and changkyun’s pulse: panicked as his ancestors. he was born prey, wasn’t he? just for kihyun to hunt down.

fuck, saying that, he should be _saying that._

“you were born just for me to hunt down, you know that? i’m your natural predator.”

changkyun nods again, eyes watering as he blinks them open. he must have abandoned his glasses somewhere along the way, and kihyun sees the smallness of his eyes had little to do with the prescription. he takes his hand away, supporting himself above changkyun, and slots their hips together, grinding down. changkyun throws his head back, squeaking frantically, hips bucking. kihyun presses him down with his weight, leans into changkyun’s ear and says,

“look up to the top of the food chain. who’s there?”

changkyun says, pitifully, “y-you.”

“and at the bottom?”

changkyun’s voice is so different, now, thinned by lust, breathless with desire, but the molasses-like quality to it is still there when he says, like an admittance, like a truth finally pulled from the depths of him: “me.”

kihyun says, “smart mouse,” and changkyun goes stiff beneath him, cock twitching in his pants. his back arches off the plush carpet, and he says little, “ahh, ahh, _ahh_ ”s as kihyun keeps moving against him. kihyun watches his face, the column of his neck, his soft looking ears, unfolding as he comes.

there’s a moment where they pant, looking at each other. changkyun says, weakly, “thank you.”

kihyun slowly moves off of him.

changkyun sits up, says, “be right back,” and gets to his feet, presumably to go to the bathroom and clean himself up. kihyun uses the time to calm down, forcing himself to go soft by power of will alone.

when changkyun gets back he’s wearing different pants, and he says, “oh,” again. kihyun checks the hour for the first time since he arrived. they’re over by two minutes. worse things have happened.

feeling strange, not like his usual self, kihyun asks, “was it — you’re satisfied with your time?”

changkyun tilts his head.

“yes, of course.” he glances down. “i was going to… if you needed.”

kihyun stands and shakes his head mildly.

“no need. i’ll be available for future booking over the app, alright?” changkyun nods, bewildered.

they did not kiss, so kihyun does not kiss him goodbye, just methodically redresses himself, collar and all, as changkyun stands awkwardly in the foyer.

“thank you,” he says again, and for some reason it rubs kihyun the wrong way. people don’t thank him. they give him money. he nods, and gets back in the elevator.

the thin strip of mirror reveals him finally for what he is. his hair is a mess, the lip tint is smeared, the silver bell of the collar peeks out from his scarf. his tail is out, moving unconsciously behind him. he thinks of wonho.

_“i could never. with a stranger? ugh.”_

he does not look at the doorman on his way out.

^^

“thank you for the other day, by the way,” wonho says with a sincere little smile. kihyun grimaces.

“what.”

kihyun has been in a bad mood since changkyun’s appointment, after which he had staunchly refused to masturbate, taking a cold shower and eating a halved lemon instead. he just — it’s fine. he doesn’t want to think about it. changkyun hasn’t messaged him, so perhaps kihyun’s services are no longer needed, in which case he’ll never have to think about it again, which would be ideal.

regardless, the absolute last thing he needs right now is wonho thanking him ( _thank you,_ says the changkyun that’s taken up residence in kihyun’s head) for something so pestiferously mundane as cleaning the microwave in the break room, or changing the coffee filter, or fixing the L key on his keyboard—

“for talking to the interns.”

now properly bewildered, kihyun says, “what?”

wonho leans in conspiratorially.

“they haven’t said anything about me since wednesday, at least not that’s gotten back to me, and i’ve been getting their department numbers right on schedule. i assume it was you?”

his head tilts and his face slackens into a curious little round expression. he leans in further. god, the cologne is like sandalwood and peaches being intravenously injected into your bloodstream.

“unless them worrying about a ‘mr. yoo’ scolding them is simply a coincidence…” he smiles slyly, like he’s sherlock fucking holmes on the floor of the drebber household. kihyun grimaces, swallows carefully.

“i talk to the interns every day, unfortunately, and i resent the accusation that i would hold my superior position above them to improve any social relations in this office.”

wonho merely throws his head back and laughs like marilyn monroe, white ears curving prettily.

“oh kihyun, you should’ve been a lawyer. why are you so determined to do your good deeds in absolute secrecy? most people like to be recognized for that sort of thing, you know.”

kihyun narrows his eyes and turns in his desk chair, brusquely.

“i have done no such good deed, and you have mistaken a simple conversation for some altruistic impulse, which i have very rarely, and act on exactly never. please let me get back to work.” he breathes sharply in and then out, feeling as though his fur will stand on end if another moment goes by like this.

wonho stares at him, pretty green eyes, then smiles and nods, making his graceful way back to his desk. kihyun breathes again, in and out, opens his excel spreadsheet, smooths his ears, breathes again.

^^

“he’s such an idiot; like the whole fucking world revolves around him and his stupid, like, head tilt and immaculate white fur, i—”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” minhyuk says from the phone, sounding very like he’s filing his nails.

“is this—? you want to fuck him? sorry, i’m filing my nails.”

kihyun says, “ugh!” and turns back around towards his sofa, so he can pace that way.

“sorry! i’m— what do you want from me! you work with so many people and you hate each one so vehemently!”

kihyun steps up onto the sofa arm, tail navigating his balance, and looks out his small window at the panera bread across the street.

“this is _wonho._ the purebred persian that i hate.”

“uh huh.”

“he’s fucking that tall guy that you think has kind eyes?”

“ _oh!_ yeah, i wonder what their sex is like…”

kihyun rolls his eyes, hops back down to the floor.

“focus, you dunce. he just _assumed_ that a conversation he heard about third-hand is explicitly about him? that i just, like, walk around the office putting a stop to fucking microagressions on his behalf? jesus.”

“yeah, he sucks,” minhyuk says dutifully.

“he’s all, ‘why do you insitht on doing good deeds in abtholute secrethy,’” kihyun does a poor impression of wonho’s lisp, which is especially grating considering kihyun had his canines filed down to get rid of his own at age twelve.

“and i’m like, what the hell, because this fucker thinks he knows me or something, he looked at me like—!”

kihyun stops, breathes, paces.

“like i’m some sort of repressed angst-boy in denial about who he is. i’m _not._ i’m just a fucking asshole, and i don’t want to be thanked for shutting up two interns who were being generally annoying.”

minhyuk hums, and there’s the gentle rhythmic scrape of the nail file.

kihyun runs his tongue over his teeth, slowly continues.

“in fact… the whole concept of _thank you_ is so fucking annoying. i think it should be removed from the language. gratitude is like — i know i say this a lot — the most unnecessary emotion. something happened, and you’re glad? keep it to yourself! especially—”

he laughs, almost hysterical, “especially when it’s someone’s _job._ don’t thank me for doing my fucking job. it’s my job.”

minhyuk snorts.

“yeah, like when you’re on the phone at work and they totally waste your time by being like: ‘thank you for your time.’ then stop wasting it!”

kihyun blinks, realizes he’s breathing shallowly.

“right,” he lies, standing in the middle of his cramped living room.

“exactly like that.”

they hang up after minhyuk briefly discusses an egyptian mau he follows on instagram. kihyun doesn’t listen, but it’s fine because minhyuk sends him pictures over text message right away. kihyun collapses on the couch, exhausted.

_“was it — you’re satisfied with your time?”_

_“yes, of course.”_

kihyun sighs, lays down with his head on the armrest.

_“i was going to... if you needed.”_

the words fly in horny little circles around kihyun’s head until he goes from irreparably stressed to mildly peeved. half-hard, also. changkyun was going to what? expend time and energy on pleasuring hired company? fuck off. maybe he was being polite. kihyun hates him. his hand migrates inevitably to the waistband of his jeans.

changkyun really is a fucking pervert; all he wants is the hunt. all he wants is kihyun — scratch that, anyone with a tail, to play some kind of fucked up primal game of tag with him. to be held down and — and,

kihyun thinks of the cat in the video. _get a scurrying thing under me and go_ feral.

he palms himself. his breath quickens immediately; it’s the promise of touch, the familiarity of this routine. he used to masturbate after every session; he supposes he got desensitized. it’s been a month since the last time, maybe. 

he thinks of the embarrassment of his instincts reawakening, reflexes that he’s tried so hard to kill revived at a moment’s notice. he’s so goddamn restless all the time, despite the physical nature of his second job, and god his tail aches from being tucked into his pants all day. he unfurls it from under him and lets it exist off to his side. he grips his dick fully through his pants, then undoes the button, impatient. he thinks of other things, that time in that bar bathroom, flings in college, but his mind circles back to changkyun at every opportunity.

he was going to. but how? would he tentatively wrap his hand around, red faced? would he allow kihyun to do it himself? or would he — on his knees — _oh._

there’s a thought. yes, of course he _wouldn’t,_ because he’s rich and probably goes to luncheons with other rich people he has to look in the eye, knowing he’s never sucked off a rentboy in his own house before, so he wouldn’t, but _if_ —

kihyun sighs, finally taking his cock in hand, skin on skin. how many times has he wished _he_ were the one in charge, ordering these trust fund boys and distinguished business owners around at his leisure and changkyun, well, yes changkyun’s just like that. and he just has a good face for being viewed from above, on top of that, with that nose. kihyun would make him keep his glasses on, just so he could come on them. he makes a soft sound, arches slightly off the couch. his cock pulses.

changkyun would go just like this: up and down, red mouth too small for it, probably, he’d have to use his hand, he’d have it running down his chin, god. kihyun tightens his grip.  
faster, he thinks of changkyun under him and his brain says,

changkyun under him, changkyun under him, changkyun under him.

squeaking, squirming, trying to lift his hips, rub himself on kihyun’s thigh, but he wasn’t able to because he was kihyun was on top, because changkyun was underneath, because kihyun had caught him, because changkyun was caught.

kihyun imagines himself how changkyun saw; hungry, feline, predator. he focuses his attentions on the head, runs his thumb over the ridge. changkyun would press his tongue there, against him, warm and wet. he’d have to, because kihyun caught him. kihyun’s stomach tightens, and he breathes fast while his hand moves faster.

he remembers changkyun’s trembling, lewd admittance: who’s on the bottom of the food chain? _me._ he remembers changkyun’s reverent, small, deep voice when asked the inverse: _you._

kihyun comes with his hand gripping the back of the couch, head thrown back into the armrest, legs pushing him up, taught, as he spends over his own knuckles.

then, panting, he says, out loud, “field fucking mouse!”

**meow! you have a new message!**

“fuck!” kihyun hates his life. despite this, he takes a deep breath, remembers that whoever messaged him probably wants to give him money, and reaches for his phone with his clean hand.

_can i schedule another session?_

asking permission to — it’s fine.

_of course! what time? <3_

^^

kihyun is on edge all day on thursday; he’s told his coworkers it’s a headache. sonya reports that the interns say, “mr. yoo needs to get laid, i think,” at the water cooler. kihyun gives them an extra spreadsheet to work on. he does not make a graph of how much dick he gets, compared to how much dick the interns (presumably) get. he watches the clock tick slowly towards four o’clock, and is out of the building by four-oh-three.

despite his quick exit, he takes his time getting ready. there’s something thrilling about it. he does the same thing for just about everyone else, but changkyun doesn’t want the wide-eyed kitten, mewling on the sheets. no, he wants something different. kihyun still doesn’t have a firm grasp on _what,_ exactly, that is, but damn if he won’t try. 

he does actual makeup for the first time in a while, emphasizing any coincidental feline slant of his features, dark just above his lashes. he smooths his ears, as usual, but also puts an effort into his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead. he always thought this is how he’d do his hair if he ran a company, or was very rich, which will be soon, so he might as well start practicing. the collar stays in the drawer.

tonight he picks out a breathable long-sleeved black mock-neck, and looks at his expensive linen pants before deciding on his less-expensive black ones. he spends the ride over putting on lip tint and then taking it off, and when he gets there his lips are red anyway, so he just presses them together and nods at the doorman.

the elevator mirror startles him because he forgot he’d done his hair, and he’s suddenly nervous. maybe this isn’t what changkyun wants. maybe he wants his cat to _look_ docile but _be_ mean. maybe he’s overdressed. the elevator opens and he presses his lips together one more time.

changkyun, a little more prepared, it seems, greets him in the foyer, nearly bouncing in place, small eyes bright. when kihyun takes off his jacket, changkyun says, “oh,” but not in the disappointed way he’d said it about kihyun’s collar. kihyun smiles.

“hello.”

“hello,” changkyun says, and then bolts into the rooms. kihyun curses under his breath even as his muscles tense, eyes widened at the sudden movement.

“that’s not fair, little mouse!” he calls into the penthouse, struggling to toe his shoes off.

unlike last time, changkyun is utterly silent now, scurrying soundlessly from room to room, leaving only faintly disturbed air for kihyun to follow. even so, kihyun can be quiet, too, and when he comes upon changkyun crouched in the kitchen, it’s with feline invisible grace. changkyun’s at the other end of the island, body low, small, hidden. he’s turned away. kihyun makes his slow way forward, socks slipping slightly on the tiled floor.

just as he’s two feet away, changkyun turns, squeaks, and launches himself towards the archway exit, but the slippery floor betrays him, and he flops ineffectually onto his side. kihyun takes the opportunity to grab his ankle and drag him back.

changkyun squeaks again, more violently this time, and bunches himself up as small as possible as kihyun clambers over him on the kitchen floor.

“hmm, somehow we always end up this way, don’t we, little mouse?”

changkyun shivers, uncovers his eyes with his hands, and kihyun sees he’s still wearing his glasses. kihyun reaches to take them off and cast them aside, but then he remembers. moaning on his couch at home.

changkyun makes an inquiring little squeak, and kihyun jerks back into motion, clamping down changkyun’s wrists on either side of his head.

“ _why_ do you think that is?” he asks. changkyun’s eyes go wide again and he continues shivering.

“y-you,” he says, low voice squeezed into an unsure whisper.

“i…” kihyun prompts.

“you… catch me— ah!” kihyun grinds his hips down as reward.

“what else?” changkyun breathes through his mouth as his eyelids flutter; kihyun keeps rocking down.

“you… oh, you, uh,”

kihyun pouts, “my mouse is broken. it can’t talk when it feels too good.”

changkyun cries out, arms straining at kihyun’s grip. his hips buck. kihyun releases him, sits back with his full weight on changkyun’s dick.

“ooooh, i remember now,” he says, putting on wonho’s head-tilt and sparkling eyes combination like he invented it.

“the mouse is a _perrrvert._ don’t know how i keep forgetting.”

changkyun squeaks again, shifting and squirming beneath him. kihyun wets his lips, though his whole mouth is dry. his heart is in his throat.

“would…” he leans down again, speaks into changkyun’s ear like he’d done before.

“would the mouse like a cock in his mouth?”

there’s a terrible two seconds where kihyun’s certain he’s made a mistake, and changkyun will tell him to get out, but then—

changkyun goes rigid like a piece of wood, and comes, right there. kihyun, baffled, watches as his ears curl and uncurl, squeaking uncontrollably as he writhes on the tile floor. kihyun, unsure if this marks the end of — tonight, just sits on top of him, petting a hand over changkyun’s warm crotch after he remembers himself.

when changkyun shifts, kihyun immediately gets off him, but changkyun doesn’t stand up, rather, he kneels, head bowed, cheeks burning.

“p-please…” he says, hoarse.

kihyun says, breathlessly, “what?’

changkyun looks up, watery-eyed.

“please… cock in my mouth.”

ah.

kihyun’s brain splits open like a coconut, but he scrambles to his feet, fumbling with his zipper before changkyun’s hands, somehow so much steadier now when he’d been shaking moments ago, push his aside. with deftness and surety kihyun didn’t know he possessed, changkyun pushes his pants and underwear down, and fits his mouth around him.

kihyun says something like, “agh,” and reaches behind him to grip the edge of the island.

changkyun’s mouth is not so much like a plum now but more like an endless, wet, tunnel that’s been punched _through_ the plum. kihyun loves it, jerks his hips forward, can’t believe it when changkyun just sits there, and chokes a little, and _takes_ it.

kihyun reaches forward with his free hand and pets changkyun’s ears, which are soft and fine. changkyun moans around him, and kihyun shudders, surprised at his own lack of stamina, which is normally similar to a computer, where his clients punch in their preferred standards, and he comes right on time. but now, with changkyun’s mouth on him — fuck. it’s better than kihyun had let himself imagine. it’s better than could _be_ imagined. changkyun’s mouth is so red and so warm and so slick, and his eyes are smaller than ever, glazed with arousal behind his glasses and his _glasses,_ fuck.

kihyun fucks his mouth, panting, unsteady, and changkyun presses his tongue here and there, unhurried, patient. kihyun can’t believe it. which part, he doesn’t know, and it’s becoming unclearer by the second, and now changkyun’s sucking there — _there,_ and kihyun pulls him off by the ear just in time to come on his face.

they didn’t discuss it beforehand, but changkyun im is a pushover rodent paying him five hundred an hour, so kihyun figures it’ll be fine, and it _is,_ it’s more than fine. the thick whiteness streaks his glasses, his deceivingly small mouth, his big nose, which twitches as it happens. the last of it drips onto his shirt, and then kihyun just stands there, softening cock in hand, panting.

changkyun is still, also, for a moment, and then he takes off his glasses, which leave two neat circles where there’s no come. he licks his lips.

“thank you.”

kihyun blinks, drops his dick. changkyun leaves for the bathroom as he had done last time, and kihyun shakily puts his bottoms back on and sits heavily on one of the stools at the island. he makes himself take deep breaths. changkyun sucked his dick. kihyun got his dick sucked by a multimillionaire(?) with his knees on his million dollar kitchen floor, in his multimillion dollar penthouse. kihyun’s not sure who it says more about.

regardless, changkyun returns, freshened, but still sex-rumpled, and leads kihyun back to the foyer like last time.

“next weekend?” he asks, tentatively.

“sounds good,” kihyun says automatically.

he makes his way back down in a stupor, thinks the doorman _must_ know what he comes here for by now, and doesn’t look in the mirror until he gets home, at which point he takes out his contacts, and thinks that, no, he doesn’t look like a prostitute, but he _does_ look like he just got a life-changing blowjob. 

^^

the third time, they fuck. like, actually fuck. third time’s the charm, kihyun supposes, as he watches changkyun squeak and spread his legs further while kihyun works a third finger in. they’re on that guest bed, and the sheets are ridiculous, like water on kihyun’s skin, the mattress yielding. he’s jealous, and he thinks he’ll take vindication in fucking changkyun, but when he situates himself, and slides in, and changkyun’s ears flutter and he twists and turns and grabs at sheets that are too smooth to get a grip on, kihyun knows something in the back of his head solidifies.

changkyun finds no purchase in the bedding, so he holds onto kihyun, grips his shoulder, his biceps, his waist. kihyun’s used to this, but in reverse; he’s still the one being touched, but normally it’s in possession, force, pulling him this way or that to make him the prettiest picture possible. changkyun holds him like — well, he _holds_ him. his touches are like — like begging. like saying, _please?_ and at first kihyun know what he’s asking for, but then he hitches changkyun’s leg up higher with a hand on his thigh, and changkyun sighs and squeaks in relief, or pleasure, or both. kihyun keeps rocking into him, and experimentally puts his hands on changkyun’s waist, and changkyun throws his head back and says, _“yes,”_ the same way he said _me_ when answering kihyun’s question the first time, and kihyun understands. he shudders, leans down, braces himself on an elbow above changkyun.

an overwarm palm on his hip, _please don’t stop._

kihyun doesn’t. he fucks changkyun good, steady until the end, touches him, answers changkyun’s silent pleas with yes and yes and yes. he forgets about the silkiness of the sheets, they just feel good. he forgets the hunting and that he’s a cat and that changkyun’s a mouse.

it just feels good.

kihyun’s had several clients fall in love with him. it’s a tiring but inevitable problem in this line of work, and he does his best to let them down easy: "this is just my job, you don’t know me outside of this, i’m sorry, i can’t offer my services anymore, best of luck."

he knows exactly how inconvenient, and awkward it is when something like that happens. when feelings get in the way of work. he looks at himself in the elevator mirror on the way down, and thinks,

_this is my job. i’m going home after work right now. changkyun im is a customer, and he pays me to do this. this is my job._

kihyun goes home, eats half a lemon, takes a shower, warm this time, and lays in bed until his alarm goes off.

^^

hwitaek schedules their next session earlier than usual. kihyun secretly hopes that it’s because he got a promotion at work.

but when hwitaek opens the door, kihyun leans in for their cheek kisses, and gets hwi’s tongue in his mouth instead. he finds himself pressed against the door, forcing it closed, bell tinkling from the jostling. kihyun lets it happen, but when hwi finally pulls back, he frowns.

“a different kind of greeting than usual, hwitaek. everything alright?” he speaks carefully, prettily, slips out of his jacket and scarf.

“yes, i just wanted to see you,” hwi says, looking at the large space between kihyun’s collar and the neckline of his shirt. kihyun smiles, though concern still lingers.

“well i’m right here, aren’t i?”

the concern persists when hwitaek brings them to the bedroom with no preamble, and is more careless than usual when undressing kihyun. the sheets are rumpled, bed unmade. kihyun frowns even as hwi presses into him, though he makes the appropriate gasping noise. it’s quick and dirty, kihyun getting his face rubbed raw as he’s moved back-and-forth on the pillows. he nearly forgets _he’s_ supposed to be doing stuff, too, and pulls himself off quickly as they make their way to hwi’s orgasm.

after, kihyun hugs hwitaek close and pretends to be very drowsy and pliant. hwi traces his vertebrae.

“she’s so beautiful,” he sighs.

kihyun says, “hmm,” and tries to think of who he could be talking about.

“and her boyfriend is—” his hand presses into kihyun’s back. oh, the _couple._

“he’s so, like, weird. and hot.”

_oh._

“oh,” kihyun says.

“i just… i look at them, and… i wish i was — i don’t know.”

“fucking both of them?” kihyun says with a sly smile and a giggle. hwi doesn’t laugh.

“kind of. even just getting to _watch_ would be great, honestly,” he snorts.

oh, he’s serious. kihyun stays silent.

“it just seems so great… their whole thing. it makes you feel like… if you could just, somehow, _be_ there with them, like squeeze your way in — ah, i don’t know. sorry, this is boring.” he puts that absent hand between kihyun’s ears. kihyun’s chest is very tight.

“no, keep going. i want to hear.” he senses hwi shift, probably moving his head to look down at him, but kihyun just keeps looking at the clock, telling him their time is up.

“um… well i guess i just mean. they make you feel like they’re in on something amazing. going some _where_ amazing. they make you want to… go there with them.”

kihyun hums weakly, and lays there for five more minutes. he looks at the clock and thinks, _five more minutes._

^^

minhyuk is dming the egyptian mau. his name is hyungwon, he’s a model.

shownu keeps coming downstairs to “get printer ink,” and then stands at wonho’s desk for twenty minutes and leaves without printer ink.

sehun fucks him from behind again and says he’s going back to lyon in a couple of weeks to check on the restaurant.

kihyun can barely care about any of it. he’s waiting, waiting. thinking about shoving his hand in the garbage disposal, waiting.

^^

friday comes like sunlight. kihyun basks.

he chases changkyun around his own house and catches him easily, because changkyun kept squeaking in delight when kihyun got close. they rolled around in the room with a game console and a television and a glass table which they got underneath, somehow, and kihyun leaned up too quickly and hit his head, and they both broke, laughter spilling out like the dams were faulty to begin with. kihyun leaned his head into changkyun’s neck and felt the hitch and wheeze of his breath as he laughed. changkyun leaned up on his elbows and kissed kihyun’s cheek before getting back to squeaking.

now he says things like, “are you going to eat me?”

and kihyun gets to say things like, “maybe, but horny mice are so fun to play with,” in response.

now he says things like, “c-close,” and “ah,” and “do i feel good?”

now he says things like, “cat got the cream,” as he thumbs his own come off the corner of kihyun’s mouth, roles momentarily forgotten.

that in particular was terrible, the first time kihyun blew him, because it was supposed to be like trying to shut up the squeaky mouse he caught, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but kneel there, reverent. he’d never seen changkyun above him, he was helpless.

changkyun didn’t pull on his ears, he touched kihyun’s face and let kihyun put his hands on his thighs. kihyun just knelt. he wanted to choke on it. he wanted to bury his face in changkyun’s stomach and kiss the tan skin there, he wanted to swallow, and he did. changkyun looked down fondly at him. cat that got the cream. mouse that got the cat. fuck.

“fuck,” kihyun says to his reflection as soon as he gets in the elevator.

^^

kihyun’s lost track of the numbers, but on this visit, he steps out of the elevator to find an empty foyer, which he hasn’t seen since their first meeting. he curiously wanders around, wondering if changkyun’s already hidden himself, but he finds him bent over a desk he never noticed in a room he’s never been in, which would actually explain not noticing the desk. it must be the master bedroom, kihyun realizes with a start. changkyun’s bedroom. it’s big, but not much bigger than the guest room. the bed is unmade and there’s a keyboard piano shoved into a corner. changkyun himself is hunched over papers on the desk, a pen in his left hand, frowning. kihyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen that. or any of this.

“um,” he says.

changkyun whips around, eyes wide, startled mouse in the doorway to his carefully carved hollow where the wall meets the floor. kihyun realizes, with a shiver, this is the first he’s seen changkyun look truly — caught.

“oh damn, is it friday? fuck,” he says, in his low voice, and nonsensically flips his wrist to check the time.

“i’m so sorry kihyun, i just — lost track of time, here, just give me a moment and—”

“oh it’s fine,” kihyun hears himself say. he’d nearly forgotten that — well. he’d nearly forgotten.

“if you’re busy we can just reschedule.”

changkyun gives a gratefully apologetic look.

“are you sure? it’s just i have all these — ugh, these plans for the company and…” he trails off, still looking at kihyun. he has different glasses on. for reading, maybe.

“yes of course,” kihyun says.

“please, keep the money for this, i feel terrible; you’ve come all the way here…”

“alright,” kihyun says.

changkyun blinks, perhaps expecting a protest. right. two can play at that. it’s no secret the transactional nature of this. it’s no secret. kihyun hasn’t touched his account for this in weeks. the money’s just been piling up. he doesn’t know how much is in there. but of course, it’s no secret. that’s the whole point. he feels unsteady; he grips the doorframe.

“are you alright?” changkyun asks, and he sounds so different, so capable and normal and just. real.

kihyun bites the inside of his cheek. he hates himself. he hates that he likes this, too. that changkyun is a real person with different facets and kihyun only wants to see more. he doesn’t even feel betrayed, like he sometimes does when his clients cancel on him to do a real-life thing. he feels lucky. lucky to get a glimpse. wants to keep looking.

he turns away, still clutching the doorframe, white-knuckled.

“yes, i’m quite alright. sorry for interrupting.”

“it’s… fine.” changkyun says, sounding odd.

kihyun doesn’t turn back to see his expression. he gets in the elevator, doesn’t look himself in the eye. can’t, rather.

_it’s just my job. it’s just my job. it’s just my job._

kihyun thinks it, over and over again, until it stops hurting, edge of the blade finally dull enough that it won’t cut him.

^^

“i feel like i never see you anymore, you’re hustling so much. any closer to france?”

“probably,” kihyun says.

“probably?”

kihyun looks at him. minhyuk’s golden fur is ruffled by the wind.

“yes.”

“are you okay?”

_are you alright?_

kihyun nods harshly, clenches his fist under the table.

“sorry i’m— i don’t know. i have a headache. my head hurts.”

“o...kay…” minhyuk says slowly. there’s some rustling and a blue pill appears in front of him.

“here, acetaminophen.”

“thanks.”

minhyuk and the egyptian mau, hyungwon, have moved to sexting. he might be travelling here later this year. wow, congratulations, are you excited? yes, very, do you think he’ll be taller person? maybe.

^^

kihyun works through excel spreadsheets with a robotic precision, wordlessly handing back expense reports that need editing to the interns. he feels wonho looking at him.

^^

the next time is awkward, at first, but kihyun ends up with his head in changkyun’s neck again, fucking him slow, and he thinks, as changkyun moans into his ear,

_i’ve ruined this. i’m ruining this._

they wander back to the front, after, slow and languid in post-orgasmic haze, or at least, that’s how it should be, but changkyun seems to be nervous, more than usual. he’s shifting feet as he watches kihyun pull his coat on. kihyun’s worried he’ll dismiss him. no longer in need of your service, sorry. the executioner stands above him, reading out his crimes.

but changkyun just says, “thank you,” as always.

“would you like to schedule another session while i’m here?” kihyun asks, breezing over it, as always.

“ah, i was hoping to speak with you about that, actually.” again, that voice kihyun had only heard last week, official, real. kihyun continues doing the buttons on his coat, but slowly.

“oh?”

“yes,” changkyun bites his red lip, looks down at his thumbs where they twiddle.

“i was wanting to offer you a — contract, of sorts.”

kihyun’s hands cease movement entirely. he, of course, immediately thinks of fifty shades of grey, and then nearly laughs, but doesn’t. he doesn’t know what that means.

“what kind of contract, might i ask?”

changkyun’s ear twitches.

“it would be… exclusive. i mean, i wish to have you.”

kihyun blinks. “what.” what he meant to say was, _i wish to have you, too._

changkyun’s face is crumpling into a pained expression, as if he knows he’s explaining badly but can’t seem to stop himself.

“i’m trying to say, your… services are invaluable to me. i like you very much. i want to offer you money — name your price, in fact, — in exchange for a more… fluid relationship. you could live here, even! i could leave you the place, and live in the other brownstone, or we could stay in separate bedrooms; however you prefer. i would take care of food, clothes, transportation, and anything else you’d need. kihyun i,” he flushes, “well, i like you very much.”

kihyun thinks he might never move from this spot again.

“so you said.”

“yes,” changkyun’s blush deepens. “oh!” his ears perk up.

“and of course, you could halt your other, um, preoccupations, since you’d have no need for multiple lines of income. i wouldn’t have you sign anything so formal as an _actual_ contract, but… i suppose i could outline my exact desires, if it would help. and… well, i suppose that’s it.”

there’s a long, silent moment before kihyun finally uproots himself. he takes a step back, a felled tree, force of shock leaving him no choice.

it’s — it’s everything. it’s everything kihyun wants in fewer words than he’s put it to himself so far. changkyun’s offering him everything. he wants to say yes. he wants so badly to say yes. yes, changkyun, thank you. thank you.

but he knows he won’t.

changkyun is just looking at him from behind those glasses, hopeful and determined and — for the first time, kihyun finds him imposing. it’s subtle; kihyun didn’t notice it last week, in his bedroom, but he looks adult, strong, even despite the diffidence of his nature.

something prickles at kihyun’s skin, and he realizes it’s the suffocating stranglehold of money. invisible, of course, but he’s not sure he’s felt the pressure on his neck so keenly before this moment. he thinks of zeroes piling up in his work account. a gulf between them has been in kihyun’s blind spot, and now he finds himself forced to look at it directly. he hasn’t let himself think about it most of the time, but now it’s devastatingly obvious, just how far above him changkyun is in wealth, power, station, status, _everything._ he’s probably been able to buy everything and anything he’s ever wanted in his life, no object too extravagant, no service without an easily paid price.

and now, he’s set his sights on kihyun, kihyun who is, to him, probably, a stray whore he thinks he’s doing a favor, he got lucky with the kink, and he wants to—

kihyun takes another step back. tries to breathe, finds the air caught in his throat. kihyun blinks and sees changkyun turned again, in another, different light. he looks down.

“i must. i must decline.”

yes, it would be everything, but it would be fake, it’s not what kihyun wants, he wants — last week. changkyun over his desk. that… trueness. something real. it's unfair, but changkyun isn't being fair either. he must be frowning, but kihyun can’t look at him, he’s keeping his eyes on the floor, the light spilling from the adjacent rooms, the coatrack, where his scarf still hangs.

he feels aware, hyperalert, but not in the heartracing, attentive way he had been a mere ten minutes ago; now he feels his brain working to catalogue the distance between himself and changkyun, the elevator call button, inches from his right hand, the window he knows is in the spare room, leading to a very long drop. he feels as if one of changkyun’s plush rugs has been pulled from under him; something more prey than predator courses through him now — the urge to flee.

“i assure you i could match and exceed your other clients’ offers.”

as if it’s a business deal — but, to changkyun, it is.

kihyun feels his hackles raise, muscles tense. he wants to _leave._ this is worse. this is worse than he imagined. he thought changkyun would just cut him off, ghost him, or demand his money back, or give him a sad smile and say it could never work.

“i’m sure you could.” he glances up quickly; more frowning on that plum mouth.

“kihyun, i—”

“please!” kihyun says, voice coming out rather louder and shakier than intended. he takes another breath.

“please, understand that — that this is not, i am not.” despite himself, he feels his fur beginning to puff, his tail racing back and forth behind him, irate. he should be polite, he _needs_ to be polite, changkyun’s just — overeager; he thinks this is _kindness._

“i hope you won’t begrudge me for finding you so alluring i wish to have all to myself,” changkyun says, quietly, and it’s the quietness, the meek retreat as he delivers this final blow, that sets kihyun’s teeth on edge.

his every instinct is pushing him to select flight rather than fight, but, he supposes, he’s always been a little contrary.

“i cannot be _bought,_ like some very common housecat, you fool, i am — i am a purebred and,” his voice falters. he shakes his head. the ache is back; he fears it might actually turn into a migraine this time.

“actually, i’m a mutt.”

changkyun stares, eyes wide. feeling vicious, kihyun continues. he wants changkyun to feel like this. he doesn’t say, _look what you’ve done to me!_

“yes, i’ve been lying to you. you’ve been fucking a tabby mix you could find on any street corner this whole time, so you’d better get checked for fucking _mange.”_

kihyun takes a moment, waits for the inevitable disgust. it doesn’t come. kihyun swallows.

“and _still,_ even though i’m a dirty street cat, as it turns out, i cannot be purchased as an object. i am a person, like you, with a job — _not_ this — and friends and…” he’s panting. changkyun stares.

“i know,” he says in confusion.

“i know.” softer.

“yes, then you know a person cannot be fucking _paid_ for. to ask me to — to abandon my life, live here as your — your fucking mewling sex toy is abhorrent, and insensitive, and rude, and presumptuous, and arrogant. you cannot pay for _me._ you pay for my time. i will not become exclusive, shut down my business, and reduce myself to that. i won’t.” his hands are in fists, he looks away again. he wants to say, _i would give you anything but this! why have you asked for this?_

“okay,” changkyun says.

“i’ve worked hard to build the customer base i have.”

“okay.”

“i like what i do. i don’t need to be saved from it.” the truth feels so strange in his mouth, too big and too fragile. changkyun's expression is contemplative, and guilty somewhere behind that.

“i thought—”

“i know what you thought,” kihyun cuts him off, not as harshly, his tail slowed to a careful meandering in the space behind him.

“you thought what they all think. that i’m luxurious and beautiful and sexy and wouldn’t it be nice to have me around all the time? i’m very good at what i do.”

“quite,” changkyun agrees.

kihyun scoffs, recovered, if only by the smallest amount.

“when you make an offer like this it—” he makes another noise of disbelief, shaking his head.

“you want to buy something that doesn’t exist. a full-time version of this,” he gestures at himself, “but it’s. it’s not there. i am that, but i am… more. also.” he makes a strangled noise, half a laugh.

“i don’t know why i…”

_thought you saw me differently. thought you saw me._

“what?”

finally, kihyun lifts his gaze back to changkyun’s, trained into indifferent coolness, expression molded into a mask of strength by sheer force of will.

“i think that concludes the time we scheduled.”

^^

a week later, wonho brings a package over to kihyun’s desk, looking apologetic.

“sorry,” he whispers, “i don’t want to make your headache worse, but this came for you.”

kihyun, who has been in and out of migraines for the last four days, wordlessly takes the box. it’s small, unadorned. inside is kihyun’s scarf, forgotten in a penthouse on the other side of town, and a note.

_i always thought siameses were stuck up. tabbies are clearly better._

and on the back:

_i’m sorry._

kihyun tears it neatly in half and throws it in the garbage. he puts the scarf over the back of his chair, and turns back to his spreadsheet. he feels wonho’s soft gaze on the back of his neck and goes home an hour early.

at home, he lays in bed and replies to neglected emails until he starts to go crosseyed. the weekend goes on like this, with a visit from minhyuk, who apparently sensed a disturbance in the kihyun-verse, to break up the monotony of… laying in bed.

“you got fired for telling off your boss.”

“no.”

“you accidentally bought almonds and you hate almonds but you have that thing where you feel bad wasting food so you made yourself eat the entire thing of almonds.”

kihyun suppresses the smallest of smiles.

“no.”

“ummmm you fell for a nigerian prince scam and all your sex kitten money is gone.”

“ _no_ but don’t even joke about that.” kihyun shivers, bringing the blankets up to his chin. minhyuk flops down next to him, defeated.

“then i don’t know.”

kihyun hums.

a few minutes pass and minhyuk’s medium-sized, warm hand finds kihyun’s clammy one.

“i won’t ask, because you won’t tell me, bitch, but if… _if_ you did want to tell me. you know. i might shut up for a few minutes and listen.”

kihyun uses all his strength to turn his head and look at minhyuk, who is sincere, and visibly uncomfortable with that sincerity. kihyun lets that small smile out onto his face.

minhyuk grins back and puts his thumb in front of kihyun’s mouth. kihyun wrinkles his nose.

“it’ll make you feel better,” minhyuk scolds.

kihyun sighs but obediently licks his thumb, which minhyuk uses to smooth the fur over his ear, then rubs just behind it, where gossamer skin meets scalp. kihyun lets his eyes close, and he’d never admit it, and minhyuk won’t bring it up if he knows what’s good for him, but he purrs.

^^

it hurts kihyun somewhere deep and secret. he tries to think of it like the shaolin monks think of the bed of nails. it only hurts if you believe it’s real.

minhyuk leaves, eventually, and it upsets kihyun in that secret place, and something hot and terrible rises in his chest as he reaches out to the dip in the mattress next to him that minhyuk left. he hasn’t felt this way since he was seven in the grocery store, lost in the rows of freezers. he feels like he could run down this coldness forever, and ever, and ever.

he goes to work on monday, thinks the pain of the garbage disposal shredding his hand apart would be negligible at the moment, in comparison.

wonho and hyunwoo speak in their coded language of love and affection at the water cooler; kihyun goes to the bathroom and stays there for twenty minutes, obsessively smoothing his ears. no one comes looking.

on tuesday he has one intern instead of two.

“where the hell is sam?”

sonya says, “out sick.”

kihyun says, “oh.”

wednesday and thursday are hardly days. jinhyuk fucks him on friday.

“no collar? i miss it.”

half-way through, hand on his collarbone, hand on his waist. this touch is telling him nothing. a stranger, touching him. kihyun’s fingers fly to his neck, which is bare.

“i’m sorry, i. forgot.”

“it’s ok, kitten.”

other words, more touching. kihyun grips the headboard, tries to think of anything else, but thinks of lying under the glass table. looking out the window in the sitting room. a desk he’d never seen. he turns himself around and fakes it, rumpling sheets around himself.  
it feels good to yell, to use his voice.

kihyun gets home, rumpled and twitchy, and realizes he forgot his collar because he forgot his scarf, not used to having it back. he put it on a chair in the kitchen last week and hasn’t touched it since.

he doesn’t touch it the next week, either. sam is still sick, or something. he closes his eyes and tries to stave off a migraine with hands on either side of his head.

he gets half-ready for sehun on saturday, and then remembers sehun is in lyon, and collapses on his bed with his hair still wet.

he wakes an hour past midnight, shivering. he dresses, carefully, in old clothes from college. his hair is stiff and flat on one side. he stands in the kitchen.

little pushes from the continuation of time move him forward. water. get in the car. turn the key.

he drives no where, and lands at hwitaek’s apartment complex, and he watches the fifth window up. the light is on, and figures move and cast shadows that jump and twist. a woman pulls back the curtains. she’s beautiful, with long black hair. kihyun can’t see her features well from here, but he knows it’s her. the girl. a man, not hwi, blond and thin, comes up behind her and kisses her cheek. they’re pulled forward, together, out of view.

_they make you want to… go there with them._

kihyun rests his forehead on the steering wheel and sits there for a very long time.

^^ 

**meow! you have a new message!**

kihyun is too weak not to look.

_please come over. let me explain. nothing else._

minhyuk convinces him to go “or i’ll go and swindle him out of the rest of his money myself for making my already-sour best friend a proper pickle. go.”

^^

getting in the elevator is strange after so long. kihyun looks at his reflection and sees a miserable little tabby, so he straightens his back and does the top button on his shirt.

seeing changkyun waiting for him nearly knocks the wind out of kihyun, but he calmly steps forward into the foyer, where he has stood so many times before.

“how did you know where i worked?” kihyun does his best to keep his voice cool and steady, succeeds.

changkyun winces. “my assistant did some research.” he’s wearing a turtleneck and linen pants. the silence is almost worse than the talking, but only almost, so kihyun doesn’t say anything more.

“would you like to come in?” changkyun asks.

“no,” kihyun says, shifting his weight between feet, caught in the small foyer. but he doesn’t want to sit down.

“okay,” changkyun says.

another pause, he clears his throat.

“i’m sorry.”

“i know. i got your note.”

changkyun winces again. kihyun wishes he'd stop.

“well i thought i would say it again in person.”

“why?”

“because you deserve it. because the mistake is larger than a note.” he takes a deep breath.

“kihyun,—”

“wait,” kihyun says, only barely managing to keep the desperation out of his voice. he may burst into tears upon hearing long sentences in changkyun’s voice. he needs a moment. changkyun is obedient, still.

“alright,” kihyun says, finally.

“kihyun,” changkyun begins again, softer now. kihyun, a sinking boat, frantically pulls buckets of water out of his chest and tosses them overboard.

“i’m sorry,” he says again. kihyun thinks he may die, here, in the foyer.

“for treating you as an object, when you are a person.”

he’s wearing his reading glasses. kihyun sees a studious man, good in history, maybe. his brown hair and brown ears and brown glasses. his hands (on kihyun’s body so often, so reverent), clasped together, serious.

“i… treated our relationship as a business transaction, when i knew it was becoming — had become. more. different.”

get the lifeboats ready. there’s too much damage to the hull.

“kihyun, i knew i would love you the first time we met.”

kihyun swallows.

“you were beautiful, and… hesitant, and perfect. i’d been fantasizing about such a day, but i could never have prepared for you. my imagination would have failed me. i couldn’t believe it. how lucky i was.”

kihyun never was afraid of drowning, but it’s up to his neck, now. he’s not sure he can keep treading water.

“as time went on… i was jealous that you touched anyone else. i would look forward to you. i wanted you so much, and i… wasn’t sure what you felt towards me. i thought if i couldn’t date you, and i couldn’t love you like that, then i could — buy you.” he looks pained.

“i thought that’s what you would’ve wanted. i thought it was easiest, the least complicated option. i know now how insulting that must have been. i’m sorry.”

kihyun’s fingers have long since gone numb.

“thank you,” he says stiffly.

changkyun, earnest, searches his face.

“i won’t offer you money again. but i had to know that you knew this. that you knew i’d hand over everything, if you asked.” he takes a breath. kihyun gulps ocean water.

“i know you… well. this is your job, like you said. i know you showed me what i wanted to see. but i know — or, i _hope,_ i hope so much, that some of it…” changkyun’s eyes are brown like everything else, kihyun can hardly look. he knows they’re both thinking of kihyun, on his knees. kihyun, fucking him slow, honestly. kihyun, laughing under the table.

“that some of it was genuine. from what you _have_ showed me, i know that you are… good. and funny. and beautiful, but that’s obvious. you’re always beautiful. so,”

he lowers himself, and kihyun feels himself suck in a sharp breath as changkyun’s knees meet the raised floor of the first room.

“i will ask now, what i should have asked before. not to have you… i don’t want to own you, kihyun. i want to know if. if you will have _me.”_

he bows his head in complete submission. kihyun’s choking up water inside his head, clenching his fists. but changkyun stays, resolute. no leap to his feet, no just kidding, no demands, nothing. kihyun remembers changkyun’s hands on him, asking for permission.

he makes his way over with tiny, cautious steps. swimming the impossible distance, to this. to this. he touches changkyun’s ear.

“stand up. please.”

he does.

kihyun looks at him, his nose twitches. changkyun is dry land and kihyun collapses onto him, taking deep breaths, pulling himself out of the endless ocean. changkyun’s shirt smells like this apartment, woody and luxurious and sturdy. kihyun missed this; the tears finally come, salty as seawater.

“i’ve never wanted anything like how i want you,” he says, breathless.

“never with anyone else. i was so scared, the first time. i liked it so much. i was terrified the third; i liked _you_ so much. i… i wasn’t ready to love you. i’m sorry. i got scared when you asked because — i thought. i thought you just—” he can’t continue, but changkyun runs a warm hand down his back, to the base of his tail and says, “i know. i’m sorry.”

kihyun clutches at the fabric at changkyun’s shoulder and whispers, hoarsely, “love— i love you.”

changkyun sighs, and his body relaxes under kihyun’s in something like relief, something like joy.

“i love you. i love you. i want to know you so much. i want to know everything you haven’t told me.”

kihyun holds tighter, swallows more tears, laughs.

“i’m an accountant.”

changkyun says something like, “hah,” incredulously, happily.

“i’m a cfo. match made in heaven.” his words are warm and wet on kihyun’s neck. it feels like fire. like kihyun is the bush, burning.

it’s not like he has a rule about it or anything, but kihyun tries not to kiss. they have never kissed. but changkyun pulls back, and unambiguously looks at his mouth, and kihyun laughs and leans in.

changkyun cleans the tears from his lips, puts oxygen back in his lungs, a full resuscitation of a half-drowned cat. his mouth is soft, yielding, honeyed plum. his teeth are flat, smooth, mouse-teeth, for gnawing and chewing. they pull back. everything is so lovely. everything.

they move to the bed — _changkyun’s bed_ — and fall upon it helplessly. changkyun puts his wet mouth on him and kihyun puts his wrist on his forehead, overwhelmed.

“please, faster,” is all he can say, and changkyun obliges, and smooths his hands over kihyun’s stomach, and swallows kihyun’s cum like it’s the highest honor on earth.

then kihyun climbs on top of him and says, “i’ve got you, i’ve got you,” and changkyun nods and squeaks just a little, “you have me, you have me.”

after, they look out the big window, and kihyun points out the SPESKA building and the panera bread he can see from _his_ apartment. changkyun, bewildered, turns to him incredulously.

" _there?_ " he points. " _you_ work at SPESKA."

kihyun blinks. "yes...?"

changkyun exhales as if he's been hit.

"i'm the cfo. of SPESKA."

kihyun says, _"what?!"_ and they talk until dark about the horribleness of the company, how the dishwashing liquid leaves spots on glasses, and the recent financial quarter.

kihyun looks at changkyun's profile, lit by the setting sun, and allows himself to think of silly things like soulmates. destiny. he leans in and kisses changkyun's temple.

"thank you," he says, softly, and changkyun turns to beam at him, love etched into his face. then, his smile turns mischievous, and he's off down the hall, squeaking and tittering. kihyun jumps to his feet, and begins to give chase through the many rooms, laughing all the way.

^^ 

minhyuk and the very tall hyungwon get along _very_ well, and kihyun would be glad if he never heard about tail grooming standards in the fashion industry ever again. he almost misses the rabbit.

kihyun quits his job at SPESKA, but keeps his other one, and changkyun feels much better about it once kihyun shows him pictures and points out all of his clients’ less attractive features. hwitaek messages him saying thanks so much for all he’s done, but he won’t be needing service anymore, and kihyun smiles and messages back a genuine congratulations. he and changkyun keep their respective apartments, but kihyun plans on moving in after his lease is up. the bed, couches, and rugs get plenty of use in the meantime, though. 

they have a big goodbye party for him at the company, and he hates it, but leaves the hat wonho forces onto his head where it is.

the cards are cheesy, the cake is okay, olivia gives him a weird little salute, and wonho hugs him tightly. if wonho and his beau get simultaneous promotions to the same department within the next month, kihyun will pretend not to know anything about it when wonho texts him.

“where the hell is sam, by the way? did he like, die or something?”

wonho stares at him, wide-eyed. his mouth is a pink little cheerio.

“you didn’t know?”

kihyun shifts uncomfortably.

“what…”

wonho blinks.

“sam got his hand caught in the garbage disposal last month. he might be suing.”

**Author's Note:**

> hehe.. hoho. i've never posted anonymously before.. i feel so mysterious. but omg i had so much fun writing this fic! a closegood friend sent me the prompt half as a joke and i wrote 1k and she was like haha this is so great! thanks :-)   
> and then i... kept. writing. it. and now here we are! if you happen to figure me out, feel free to hit me up in my twitter dms! it's not a huge secret or anything but i just didn't want.. you know. hybrid porn on my main account fknsdadnkj. that being said i am vewy proud of this and hope you enjoyed it too! drop a comment of ur fav part! catki and mousekyun ftw <3


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